


Dust to Dust

by supreme_genius



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Language, M/M, Passing Out, brief mention of break up, drunk!Nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supreme_genius/pseuds/supreme_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, you're acting your thin disguise<br/>All your perfectly delivered lines<br/>They don't fool me<br/>You've been lonely, too long"</p><p>Nick builds a wall around his heart after his break up, but one too many drunken nights make that wall come crumbling down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust to Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Still don't own Grimm. Still don't make money from this.  
> Unbeta'd.
> 
> Title is from a Civil Wars song of the same name that inspired me.  
> I don't own them either but I did buy their album.

 Nick sits in the recliner – one of the few pieces of furniture in his new living room – and watches as the raindrops hit the window. He's been sitting there for a while; sat down before the rain obstructed his view of the street below. He hates this – the sitting, the waiting around, the loneliness. His apartment is on the smaller side, but it's still big enough to remind him that he's alone. After Juliette left, he tried to keep the house, but he couldn't bare it. Everywhere he looked there were memories of her. He thought moving across town would help. He thought being closer to work and to his friends would help. It hasn't. At least, not as much as he hoped it would.

 

Nights like this, Nick would confide in his best friend. He would drive over to Monroe's house, down a beer or two, curl up on the sofa, and sleep. Some nights they talked, others they didn't. Some nights it took four or five beers for Nick to calm down. There were a few mornings that Monroe had to call in sick for Nick. It was after the third morning like that that Nick realized how thankful he was for Monroe. And after the fourth was when Nick told Monroe how much he appreciated him.

 

But Monroe's house is dark and locked. There is a clock conference in Seattle that Monroe can't miss. It's where he does the majority of his networking with clients and other clock makers. Nick has a key, but he knows it would be weird to go over there right now. Plus, after five beers he knows he can't drive. So instead, Nick walks – wobbles, really – to his bedroom. Monroe had stopped by two nights ago – before he left – and had forgotten his sweatshirt. It had been an abnormally hot night and it was tossed aside and forgotten. Nick picks up the sweatshirt and holds it up to his face. He rubs the fabric against his cheek and then breathes in the smell that is undeniably Monroe. Holding the sweatshirt close, Nick flops into bed.

 

It's when Nick lays the sweatshirt over one of this pillows and then lays his head where Monroe's chest would be, that he realizes just how pathetic he is. Angry that he could sink that low, Nick grabs the sweatshirt and pillow and throws them both across the room. _Fuck_ , he mutters to himself.

 

It's another long, sleepless night for Nick. He has to drag himself from his bed in the morning, moving around only on autopilot. He feels likes a zombie. Despite taking a shower and doing his hair only enough that it wasn't sticking up in ten different directions, he still looks like hell. When he's getting his daily coffee, he finds himself ordering a double Americano – Monroe's usual. He even opts for a veggie and egg white bagel sandwich rather than his usual jelly-filled doughnut. But he has to go to work, so there's no time to put much thought into it.

 

Unfortunately, today turns into a paperwork day. He and Hank had absolutely no leads or suspects in their case, and they were still waiting for DNA to come back. Nick hates these days; they're boring. But today is worse because all he can think about is Monroe. Most of his day is spent dodging questions from Hank about why he seems so out of it. Nick just keeps saying that he's just tired. It's not like he could say, _I might be in love with Monroe. I just can't stop thinking about him. He's away this week and I don't know what to do with myself. I thought I was straight but now I don't know. But maybe it's just Monroe. I just don't even know anymore, Hank. What do I do?_ Because even that wouldn't get his feelings across in the right way.

 

Nick heads right home after work and demolished the rest of the beer in his fridge. It's when he trips over his feet, falling on the floor, face smashing into the carpet, that he realizes how low he's sunk. This is the kind of night that leads to a morning where Monroe would call in sick for him. He tries to get up, make it to the bed, but he just doesn't have it in him. _You deserve to lay here on the floor. You are pathetic, absolutely worthless. Your only redemption is Monroe. He's too good for you. Even if you weren't lying here on the floor, you still wouldn't deserve him._ That's the last thing Nick thinks about before he blacks out.

 

When Nick finally wakes up – well after noon the next day – he's no longer lying with his face in the carpet but on his back, in bed. It takes him a while to realize this and to adjust his eyes to the daylight. He groans, feeling every ache in his body as a reminder of last night. As Nick realizes he hasn't woken up in the same place he passed out, and hears footsteps coming towards him, he jumps up and tries to grab his gun from the nightstand drawer.

 

“Whoa, Nick. It's just me,” a familiar voice says.

 

Nick turns and sees Monroe standing in the doorway, and breathes a sigh of relief. It took a moment for his heartbeat to return to normal. “What...what are you doing here?”

 

“I wasn't really feeling that great, so I came home early. I called you when I got back, but you weren't answering your phone. I was going to call Hank, but I remembered he's on vacation, so I just came over. Used my key to get in. Found you lying face-down on the floor and just about had a heart attack.”

 

That adds to the guilt crowding Nick's heart. Monroe was sick and still came to check on him. But somehow, even in his extremely hungover state, Nick manages a coherent thought. “What time did you call?”

 

“Uh, I don't know. Like nine?”

 

“Why'd you think I was in trouble? I could have been sleeping.”

 

“At nine? Yeah right.”

 

_He's got a point, I guess. But still..._

 

“So, you want some breakfast?”

 

Just the mention of food is enough to make Nick nauseated. He just shakes his head. Monroe lingers in the doorway, looking as if he wants to say something, but remaining silent. He sighs.

 

“Oh, Monroe, did you, uh...”

 

“Call in for you? Yeah. I think your captain is starting to suspect something.” Monroe's cheeks turn a dull shade of pink, almost unnoticeable.

 

“What do you mean?” _You know what he means._

 

Monroe shrugs. “I don't know.” He turns and walks out of the room.

 

 _Well, that was anticlimactic._ Nick slowly drags himself out of bed and follows Monroe into the kitchen. He finds Monroe pushing buttons on the coffee maker. Nick leans up against the wall, needing something to keep him upright.

 

“You okay, Monroe? If you still don't feel well, just go home. I'll be fine.”

 

“No, no. It's alright. I'm fine.” Monroe grabs a mug from the cabinet. “I'm sure you've got a hangover. Since you don't want food, at least have some coffee.”

 

“Monroe.” Nick waits for a response but doesn't get one. “Monroe,” he says louder, firmer. Monroe still doesn't answer him. “Damn it, Monroe. Look at me!”

 

Monroe turns around, a surprised look on his face. He's taken back by Nick's tone. Even the few times they've argued, they've never really yelled at each other or raised their voices. Nick holds his head in his hands; his voice was too loud and made his head hurt. He takes a few breaths, trying to forget the pounding in his head, and looks back up at Monroe.

 

“Alright, stop me if I'm wrong.” Nick pauses, waiting for Monroe to nod. “So, you didn't feel well at your conference. You decided to come home. You got home around nine. That's when you called me. Right?” Nick pauses and Monroe nods. “Instead of going to bed or making tea or whatever, you called me. I didn't answer. You got worried. You came over here. Right?” Again, Nick pauses and Monroe nods. “You felt bad enough to come home from a conference three hours away, where you do the majority of your networking. Maybe I missed something, but why did you call me?”

 

Monroe shrugs and looks away.

 

“No. I'm tired of playing games, Monroe. All the things you could have done –”

 

“I missed you.” Monroe blurts out. He sighs, defeated, as his cheeks become even more red.

 

“You...you missed me?” Nick asks, baffled, as if the entire concept was foreign to him.

 

“Yeah. I missed you. Okay? Sue me.”

 

“I just...” Nick walks over to Monroe. He stops, briefly, before wrapping his arms around Monroe's waist and leaning into him. “I missed you, too,” he mumbles into Monroe's shoulder.

 

“Wait, really?” Monroe scrunches up his face.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Monroe pauses, trying to straighten out the mess inside his head. “Then why does it matter that I came over here last night?”

 

“Because...because I had to be sure before...”

 

“Before what?”

 

Nick leans up on his toes, hands on Monroe's shoulder, and presses his lips to Monroe's. It takes Monroe a second to catch on and then he kisses back. Nick tangles his fingers in Monroe's hair, pulling him closer.

 

Nick breaks the kiss and looks up at Monroe. “That.”


End file.
